


Heavy Wings Grow Lighter

by TeamDamon



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky picks himself up and dusts himself off and moves on, For the record my intent is 100 percent future sambucky, Gen, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), SO, So take that as you will, also Bucky gets a sexy new haircut, and Sam is a good bro, as one does in these situations, i listed this under both the ships and just platonic pairings because it can be read either way, its canon compliant unfortunately, not really a fixit, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamDamon/pseuds/TeamDamon
Summary: Bucky was no stranger to coming back from the dead, to closing his eyes and waking up years in the future. He was used to monsters and magic by this point, nothing really phasing him the way others always expected it to, but what he was having a hard time reconciling was living in a world without Steve.—After Endgame, Bucky starts to heal and find his place in the new world.





	Heavy Wings Grow Lighter

**Author's Note:**

> So this was cathartic in a number of different ways, not just as far as my ongoing Endgame inner turmoil but also for some personal stuff. I really needed this and I hope some of you will enjoy it too :) (lyrics from Vanilla Twilight by Owl City)

_When violet eyes get brighter_

_And heavy wings grow lighter_

_I'll taste the sky and feel alive again_

_And I'll forget the world that I knew_

_But I swear I won't forget you_

_Oh, if my voice could reach back through the past_

_I'd whisper in your ear,_

_"Oh, darling, I wish you were here."_

The end of the world had come and gone, and it was kind of fitting, Bucky thought as he looked around the hut he’d called home before it all happened. It was empty now, the only traces of him and the life that he’d had in Wakanda now in boxes that lined the floor, and it truly hit him in those quiet moments just how much he was gonna miss this place. 

He was no stranger to coming back from the dead, to closing his eyes and waking up years in the future. He was used to monsters and magic by this point, nothing really phasing him the way others always expected it to, but what he _was_ having a hard time reconciling was living in a world without Steve. 

He ran a hand through his hair - shorter now, having traded his long locks for an undercut with just enough length on the top to fall into his eyes - and reached next to him on the small bed that he sat on, grabbing his phone and opening the camera roll. He didn’t have to scroll back far to find the pictures of himself and Steve from the days before Thanos, when Bucky was healing and caring for the land he’d been gifted and the animals that had come with it. They were the best days he’d had since Brooklyn, and the photos of them brought a bittersweet smile to his face and a pang to his heart. 

There had been a time he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he and Steve would get lucky and they’d get to have a quiet life someday. Steve could finally retire and take the time for himself and his mental health that he deserved, and Bucky would be by his side with his goats and his humble but honest new way of life, and they could be happy. Some part of him had always known that it was a pipe dream, but he’d hoped that he was wrong. 

He wasn’t. 

Steve - the Steve that Bucky knew, anyway - was gone now, and he wasn’t coming back. It was the last thing that Bucky had ever expected him to do, but he suspected that the snap and the five years that followed had taken a grave toll on his best friend. His eyes were different now, distant, colder than he’d ever seen, and it broke Bucky’s heart to see it. Steve was such a good man, the best that Bucky had ever known, but he had no choice but to believe that Steve had simply...  broken . Bucky knew how it felt to break, and if Steve chose to put himself back together by living out a fantasy life in the past, then, well... Bucky couldn’t begrudge him, could he? 

He loved Steve Rogers unconditionally. He was with Steve to the end of the line, even if Bucky wasn’t with him on that line anymore. 

He fought a swell of tears behind his eyes and locked the phone, setting it down and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. Steve’s choice hurt like hell and it always would, Bucky knew, but pain was an old friend that Bucky knew he’d never be free of. He’d feel phantom pains of Steve forever, like another limb that had been ripped off of his body and left behind by a ghost that groaned and wailed in its absence. Bucky didn’t wish suffering upon Steve, but he hoped that Steve felt his absence as vividly and excruciatingly as Bucky did. 

Bucky stood up from the bed, his tears having subsided and stayed behind his eyes. He walked to the small mirror across the hut, above the small basin that served as a sink, and he looked at himself with a long, cleansing exhale. 

The haircut had been something of an impulse decision, one that his neighbors had been all too happy to accommodate. The kids had giggled and shouted with shock as his signature long hair had been cut and discarded, giving way to a far more modern and slightly edgier look that had taken him a few days to get used to. At first he’d barely recognized himself, feeling like some kind of imposter wearing his skin, but in a way that was what he’d wanted. The old world had come and gone, and so had he. It was time to shed the old and welcome in the new, and what better place to start than his hair? 

His Winter Soldier triggers were gone. His left arm carried no Hydra markings, only the love and integrity of Wakanda and its respect and compassion - Shuri and everything she embodied so effortlessly. He wasn’t quite whole on the inside and he’d never be the man he’d once been before war had taken hold of him and twisted him up and wrung him out, but he was alive and he was healing and had a future that was in his own hands and his own control. 

It hadn’t occurred to him that he might have to navigate that future without Steve, and the thought of it hurt like death itself could never hope to. But even though Steve was gone, Bucky wasn’t alone and he wasn’t going to give up.

A knock outside roused Bucky out of his thoughts, and he blinked a few times before moving towards the doorway. He pulled the curtain aside and felt a smile creep up on his face as his eyes met those of the slightly grumpy man on the other side. 

“You know you owe me for this, right?” Sam said as a way of greeting. “It’s like eleventy billion degrees out here and the last thing I wanna do is help you move.”

Bucky grinned and motioned behind him. “I’ve got like four boxes, Sam. I think you’ll be fine.”

“If all you got is four boxes then why did you need my help moving?”

Bucky gestured to the Quinjet sitting out in the clearing not far from the hut. “Needed a ride.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then paused. “Oh, that reminds me. Here,” he said, handing Bucky a few carefully folded pieces of paper from his pocket. “Just came through today.”

Bucky unfolded the papers and felt a weight leave his chest as he read over the words. Tears threatened his eyes again, but this time they weren’t quite so bittersweet. 

“You’re officially a free man,” Sam declared. “Apparently Steve got the process going before he left. Pepper, Bruce and T’Challa vouched for you and pushed it through the rest of the way.”

Bucky was officially and forever pardoned for his crimes as the Winter Soldier and for his actions during the “civil war” of 2016. Blinking back a tear that managed to escape, Bucky glanced through the other two pages and his smile grew. “Your name’s listed here too.”

Bucky looked up at Sam, blue eyes swimming with gratitude for Sam having essentially put a good word in for him to the damn President of the United States, and Sam held up a finger and said, “Okay first of all, don’t go getting all sappy on me and don’t even think about giving me a h-“

“Too late,” Bucky grinned as he opened his arms and pulled Sam into a tight, affectionate hug. Sam rolled his eyes and groaned but eventually hugged him back anyway, which made Bucky embrace him all the more tightly. 

“I hate you,” Sam deadpanned without a trace of malice in his voice. 

Bucky smiled. “I know.”

“All right,” Sam said, extricating himself from Bucky’s arms and walking past him into the hut. “Let’s get this over with. Fuckin’ hate moving. ‘Specially in the middle of Africa in the damn summer... swear you’re trying to kill me all over again, gonna start calling you Thanos...”

Bucky laughed as Sam continued to grumble under his breath, and as he looked up to the sky and squinted at the bright, merciless sun, a sense of peace washed over Bucky for the first time since he’d woken back up. He wasn’t the man he’d once thought he’d be and life wasn’t what he’d expected - and neither was Steve - and that was okay. It was okay because it _had_ to be, and life would go on because it always did. The difference this time was, for the first time in his whole life, he got to choose his path himself. 

He’d never stop missing Steve and those bone-deep phantom pains would never fully cease, he suspected. There was a Steve-shaped scar on his heart and there was no denying it, but scars didn’t scare him anymore. They hadn’t for a long time. 

“Come on, Wiener Soldier,” Sam nudged Bucky as he walked past him towards the Quinjet, boxes aloft in his arms. “The Falcon Express to New York doesn’t wait for anyone.”

“Shouldn’t that be the Cap Express now?” Bucky asked, following after Sam. “And what the hell did you call me?”

Sam glanced over his shoulder. “You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“I know you got that damn enhanced hearing, don’t play stupid.”

Bucky held a finger to his ear. “What was that? I’m 100 years old, you gotta speak up, Sport.”

“Oh my God,” Sam groaned, walking up the ramp into the Quinjet. “I can’t believe I agreed to move in with you.”

“I can’t either,” Bucky laughed softly. He stopped just before his feet touched the ramp, looking up at the sky and the beauty of the land around them. He’d miss the hell out of Wakanda. He’d miss the hell out of a lot of things. 

He took a deep breath, brushed his hair off of his forehead and behind his ear and opened his eyes. Then he put one foot in front of the other and boarded the jet, leaving the past behind and stepping into his future. 

Time to shed the old and welcome in the new. 


End file.
